The Vanishing Point Read online

  He had a stack of yellow pads somewhere, clamoring with sentences.

  She pulled into the circle that led to his dorm. You okay?

  Yeah. I’m fine.

  Get back to work. That’s why you’re here.

  I know, Ma.

  Listen to me, Theo. Whatever you’re doing, it’s got to stop. Do you understand?

  No, he said. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Was it a lie? She wasn’t sure. He opened the door and looked at her, waiting to be released.

  Try to be careful, she said, resigned to some abstract negotiation. That’s all I’m saying. I’m always here for you, you know that.

  I know, Mother, he said with a hint of sarcasm. It’s a big ugly world out there.

  She watched him head down the path to his dorm, his shoulders slightly hunched, the easy swing of his arms and legs projecting a kind of cavalier indifference that was, she knew, pure bravado—there was nothing cavalier about Theo. He was a worrier, and ultrasensitive. But maybe this was her perception of him, and maybe that was the trouble. Maybe he’d shed that image long ago and she was the one clinging to it for some reason, out of fear, perhaps. Maybe it made her feel more in control in a world that was entirely out of control. And maybe she was hanging on to it because it was a handy explanation for his behavior, the lurking malaise that had seemingly taken possession of him.

  But then, maybe she was exaggerating. Magda tended to do that, she knew. It was hard not to think of the worst with so many reminders, an overabundance of bad news in the papers and on TV. And how could it be possible that those awful things hadn’t had an influence on her son? Not to mention what was going on in their lives right now—Julian, the divorce, what she’d told him about Rye. Of course he was off! What was she thinking? What did she expect? Theo needed her support, not her judgment. She felt bad about everything now. Guilty. Like whatever was going on with him was her fault. It had to be.

  He started up the steps of the dormitory. He was wearing his fuzzy old Patagonia jacket, the sleeves too short, and his jeans were so baggy they’d drifted down below his hips, revealing the thick waistband of his boxers. It was only now that she noticed how thin he’d gotten. He turned suddenly, as if reading her thoughts, either annoyed or amused that she was still there, and waved to her with a goofy smile on his face. She waved back, like she had done so many times before throughout his life, and he stood there a moment longer, just looking at her, then pushed open the door and went inside.

  Julian

  He was in the lunchroom with Vera when one of the secretaries came and got him. There’s some guy here to see you.

  He was a beefy man in a cheap suit. He handed Julian an official-looking envelope. You’ve been served, he said.

  In truth, he never thought she’d go through with it.

  I’m tired of living this lie, she’d told him when he’d gotten to the house. I can’t stand to be in the same room with you.

  She was in her bathrobe with her hair a mess, and he could smell the wine on her breath. Her face looked a little greasy, and there were circles under her eyes, like inky thumbprints. Why aren’t you dressed? he asked.

  I’m taking a sick day.

  There were dishes in the sink, crumbs on the counter. The garbage stank.

  If he didn’t take his shit, she’d throw it out, she told him.

  Cunt, he thought.

  So here he was, packing. It occurred to him that he was at odds with the world—an expression that had never quite made sense until now. When he’d called his mother from the car to tell her they were getting divorced, she came to his defense. I never liked that girl, she admitted to him. Let her go back to where she came from. You gave her too much. You spoiled her.

  The phone started ringing, and Magda wasn’t getting it. He could smell her cigarette—an increasingly annoying habit—and knew she was out on the back steps.

  He picked up the phone. Hello?

  It was a girl named Lucia, who said she was Theo’s sometime girlfriend. He’s using, she said.

  Excuse me?

  Heroin? I thought you should know.

  I’m sorry, who is this?

  Look, you don’t have to believe me. I’m just doing you a favor.

  The girl waited for him to say something, then grew impatient. I have to go now.

  Wait—what should we do?

  Make him stop, she said. Before he can’t.

  He hung up. He went downstairs and opened the door. Magda put out her cigarette like a teenager who’d been caught. There was a call, he said.

  Who was it?

  A friend of Theo’s.

  He told her what the girl said. She made him repeat it several times.

  I knew he was doing something, she said, shaking. I mean, I suspected something. At Thanksgiving. I figured he was maybe smoking a lot of pot. I mean, who isn’t smoking pot these days? I figured maybe he was stressed because of all the work he had. Or maybe because of us.

  Us?

  Yeah, she said with annoyance. Us. As in you and Vera. She looked at him openly with hate. Because we’re splitting up. Because it was the first time—

  Yeah, I get it. This is all my fault. Because I wasn’t home for Thanksgiving.

  I didn’t say that.

  Right. Okay. Of course, you didn’t.

  Look, Julian. We have to deal with this.

  I know.

  I never figured on heroin. Anything but that. I never even imagined—

  I know. It’s terrifying.

  We have to go up there.

  He nodded.

  We have to, Julian. Like right now.

  I thought you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me. How are you going to survive being in the same car?

  I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it.

  Oh, yes, you did.

  We’re still friends, Julian. We have a child together. He needs us. That’s more important right now.

  All right, he said. I know. But we’re not friends.

  She looked at him, her face pale. Yes, we are, she said, and reached for his hand. I’m afraid.

  He nodded.

  Should I call him?

  No. Let’s just go.

  They took his car. All the trees were suddenly bare.

  I’m in complete shock, she said, her voice trembling, her teeth chattering, as if her spirit had risen out of her body and were floating around in the deep cold of her despair, unable to return.

  In all their years together, there’d only been a few things that had caused his wife to tremble like that. The time Theo had gotten hurt at the playground and they’d rushed him to the emergency room. While they sewed him up, she’d sat on the plastic chair, trembling, unable to speak. And there were the rare instances in bed when he did things she liked, and she’d let herself go, and she’d lie on the bed afterward, drenched in sweat, trembling, or the night she’d seen Vera’s texts, and he’d broken down and admitted to it, and she’d sat there on the bed, not looking at him, her face stricken and wet, and had thrown his phone across the room so hard it cracked the screen.

  We must be terrible parents.

  To this he said nothing.

  We must’ve missed something. Some deep unhappiness. Why else would he resort to this?

  I don’t know, he said. Maybe there’s no reason.

  It’s my fault, she whispered.

  Stop, Magda. It has nothing to do with you.

  Then, what? What caused it?

  He made a bad decision. It’s a mistake. People make them all the time, he said pointedly. Not that he’d ever considered his infidelity a mistake; he’d needed something she wasn’t giving him. That’s how he rationalized it. Now that it was ending, he was glad he’d had the other women. Even with a stranger, he’d sometimes felt more appreciated.

  Two hours later they were pulling onto campus. His head was starting to ache and he felt a little nauseated as they drove around, looking for a parking space in o
ne of the vast visitor lots.

  I’m sort of regretting sending him here, Magda said. We thought it would be good for him, being closer to home, remember? But look at this place.

  It’s not the place, Magda. Nobody is forcing him to do drugs.

  They got out and started walking toward his dorm in the Colonial quad. The campus was devoid of personality, a concrete wasteland. It was the magic hour, the golden sunlight slanting down, turning the people in the distance into shadows. They crossed huge blocks of cement in the wind, their jackets blowing open like wings.

  You couldn’t get into the dorm without a swipe card, so they waited for someone to come out, and caught the door before it closed.

  He’s on the second floor, Magda said. We can walk up.

  Due to complications at work, he hadn’t been able to be there on moving day, and although Magda had assured him they would be fine on their own, Julian knew he’d forfeited one of those parenting milestones.

  It was a perfectly adequate building, if somewhat sterile. They climbed the stairs and turned into a long corridor. They were obvious interlopers, as if the word parent were imprinted on their foreheads. It was surprisingly quiet. Unlike his own college days at Rutgers, there was no music spilling out of the windows. He supposed these students were all hooked into headphones, a kind of modified version of life support, he thought.

  They came to Theo’s suite and hesitated. Should they knock? But Magda bustled ahead of him and pushed open the door. They stepped into a tiny rectangle that represented the common room, with a stained couch and an old bean-bag chair with its stuffing spilling out. There was trash scattered across the floor, fast-food containers, napkins smeared with ketchup like the bloodied bandages after a fistfight. In the corner a metal trash can overflowed with empty beer bottles. A dubious puddle that might have been Mountain Dew or urine glinted on the linoleum in the late-afternoon sunlight. The air was overheated, circulating a faintly unpleasant odor of aftershave, Doritos, and vomit.

  In there, she said, pointing to the room next door. Julian knocked, no answer. Then one of the suitemates sauntered out of the other bedroom in workout clothes. He reacted when he saw them, standing taller and remembering how to behave, reaching out to shake Julian’s hand. Sorry it’s kind of a mess, he said. I’m Todd.

  We’re here to see Theo, Julian said.

  Go on in, it’s not locked. Catch you guys later. Eager to escape, he grabbed his coat and walked out.

  When they opened Theo’s door, they found him lying in bed on his side with his eyes closed, facing the wall. They could hear the spit-static of some rap song coming through his earbuds. Julian shook him a bit roughly, and Theo awoke, alarmed.

  Hey, buddy, get up.

  What?

  He sat up and wiped his eyes and pulled out his earbuds. Hey, he said, like somebody coming to. His eyes scanned the room, making sure there wasn’t anything incriminating out on his desk. Mom. What are you doing here?

  Magda sat down on the bed and put her hand on his shoulder. A friend of yours called us, she said gently.

  What? Who?

  That’s not important.

  What the fuck?

  We just want to talk to you.

  He seemed furious. What? I have exams this week. I have to study.

  What do you think we should do, Theo? What would you do if somebody called to say your child was using heroin?

  Who was it?

  That’s not important.

  That girl, Lucia—don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous ’cause I’m seeing someone else. And anyway, it’s not such a big deal. It’s not like you read in the papers.

  What do you mean?

  I did it once. I’m not fucking addicted.

  Good, Magda said, managing to keep her cool, understanding the sensitive nuances of negotiation. She was her mother’s daughter, Julian thought, a woman who refused to tolerate the stupidity of others, especially when it compromised her own fragile status in the scheme of things.

  I’m glad to hear it, she said. Then it should be easy for you to stop.

  Julian put his hand on Theo’s shoulder. Why don’t you splash some water on your face and comb your hair?

  Theo frowned and shrugged off his hand. You guys should leave.

  Not till we have a talk, Julian said. We need to discuss this.

  We think you should come home for a few days, Magda said.

  Home? What? I can’t. No. I can’t do that. Do you have any fucking idea how much work I have?

  Theo, honey, Magda said. This is really serious.

  Mom, listen. There is nothing fucking wrong with me, all right? I’m just trying to get my work done.

  Okay.

  I need to—clean up a little. Sorry it’s kind of a mess. I didn’t know you were coming—

  That’s all right.

  I’m just going to use the—

  Sure, buddy, Julian said. Take your time.

  They were starting to feel a little guilty, like maybe they were wrong. Like maybe the girl who’d called was mad at Theo. Like maybe it was all just a rumor.

  Shaking his head with annoyance, Theo left the room. They could hear the squeaking of the shower faucet in the bathroom next door and the sound of running water.

  Julian looked around the room, comparing the two sides. The roommate’s side was neat, the bed tightly made, a few photographs of his family back in Lebanon thumbtacked to the wall. Theo’s side was messy, disorganized, the desk layered with books and notebooks, half-eaten bags of Cheetos, empty cigarette packs, wayward pens and pencils—it seemed a telling disparity. The kid from Lebanon was clearly more on top of the situation. These American kids were awfully spoiled, he thought, although he’d never say it to Magda. Just look at her now, he thought, trying to clean the place up, tossing things into the trash. Stop, he said. You’re not cleaning his goddamn room. Here, let’s pack him a bag.

  He opened the closet and found Theo’s duffel bag up on the shelf. He brought it down and put it on the bed and unzipped it, and she started filling it with some of the new clothes she’d bought him that summer, before he started school, just like she’d done every year of his life—to set him off on the right foot. What a crock, Julian thought now. Opening the desk drawers, he was dismayed to find such chaos. In the bottom drawer was a brown paper bag, kind of crumpled up. He took it out and opened it. Inside were a couple bags of white powder, no larger than packets of sugar, and a few brand-new needles in sealed plastic wrappers. Here we go, he said, and showed his wife. Her face blanched and she looked ill. He’s not addicted, right?

  Oh, my God. She sank onto the bed and put her head in her hands. How has this happened?

  I don’t know.

  Then she looked up at him. What’s taking him so long?

  He went to check the bathroom. He could still hear the shower running, but when he knocked, Theo didn’t answer. He opened the door and pulled back the curtain—there was no one there.

  She took out her phone and called Theo, but of course he didn’t pick up.

  They ran down the stairs and pushed through the metal door and out into the dark of evening. Together they ran around the building, slaloming a sudden onslaught of students, but they didn’t see him. In just a few moments he’d disappeared. Just beyond the lighted path was the endless ocean-size parking lot. She looked at Julian desperately. Should we wait?

  I don’t know, Magda.

  They tracked down one of the campus security guards and told him they couldn’t find their son. They said they’d had an argument and Theo had gotten upset. He may be doing drugs, she said.

  Lady, the guard said, welcome to my world.

  He assured them that Theo would likely return later that night, after he had some time to decompress. It’s pretty cold out. He’ll be back.

  He urged them to go home and promised he’d stay on top of it. They made sure he had their number, and he told them he’d call once he’d talked to Theo and assessed the situation.
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  They drove around the campus, the dark parking lots, the neighborhoods that surrounded it, lined up like teeth. The night seemed very dark. Magda was shaking, trembling all over.

  Are you cold?

  She didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the dark, boring through it to find their son. As Julian turned onto the interstate ramp, they passed a boy standing on the embankment holding up a cardboard sign. Magda put her window down to get a better look, but they both knew it wasn’t Theo.

  When they got home, they sat in the kitchen, in the dim yellow light of the small table lamp. He poured her a glass of whiskey and they drank in silence. They were on their third glass when she looked at him and said, He’s not yours.

  What?

  Theo—he’s not your son. I’ve been meaning to tell you.

  You’ve been meaning to tell me?

  She started to cry. She wept, as if she’d been saving up the tears for a long time, all the years of their marriage, he guessed, and for some reason he thought of his mother on the day of his father’s funeral, how she’d sat in the kitchen and he’d gotten her a Kleenex and how even such a small gesture like that had made all the difference. He walked robotically into the powder room and grabbed the box and brought it back to her and sat there, waiting for her to calm down. In the high corner of the bay window he saw the nearly full moon, bright enough to cast jagged shadows of the trees on the grass.

  Magda tugged a Kleenex from the box and blew her nose. I should have told you, she said finally. I wanted to. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me.

  In a matter of minutes, she’d become a total stranger to him. He didn’t know how to feel.

  If he’s not mine—

  But her expression silenced him, her frown of shame. And he knew.

  Maybe he’d known all along. Maybe he knew every time he looked at Theo and saw those blue eyes. He’d been reminded of Rye the day he’d hauled out his box of photographs from the workshop, for a very brief moment entertaining the idea of going back to photography as an art form, a sacred avocation, and Theo had studied each of his pictures carefully, laying them out side-by-side on the dining room table, squinting like an expert, and asked why there weren’t any people in them, and when Julian told him, repeating the same excuses he’d given to Rye all those years before, Theo nodded like he understood, and muttered, Interesting, with a casual superiority that seemed all too familiar. In his heart, underneath all the matrimonial posturing, maybe he had known. And if he had, so what? It didn’t mean he wasn’t Theo’s father. It didn’t mean he didn’t love him.